


Love at First Arrest

by MorganOfTheFey



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drug Use, Fluff, Hancock was a hot rockstar guitar player who got screwed over by life, Implied Drug Use, M/M, Making Out, Modern AU, Nick is a sexy older detective who's always had a crush on him, failed date attempt, some light praise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 21:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7007209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganOfTheFey/pseuds/MorganOfTheFey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The precinct gets a call one evening about someone doing drugs in the park, and Nick goes down to check it out just in case it's Hancock. It is, and the poor drunk baby can't decide whether he wants to fight or flirt with his teenage crush, so he does both, with varying degrees of success.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love at First Arrest

**Author's Note:**

> modern AU where Nick is a detective in a small town who felt too guilty about liking a man ten years younger than him to ever confess to Hancock, who left and became a big rockstar anyway. but that ended, let's say ... badly, and now Hancock has moved back to his hometown. Nick always checks out any drug-related cases that come up just to be sure some other asshole won't hurt Hancock trying to take him in, but this arrest goes a little differently ...

“Hands behind your back, John,” Nick says, “You know the drill.”

Hancock grins at the cop even as he sways on his feet. “I wanna … get to know–to–t’know your drill.”

Nick gives a loud, world-weary sigh. As incredibly grateful as he is that everyone on the force knows to call him to come take care of John, he gets so much shit for it. Why does he have to be so stupid in love with this idiot?

“And your heart too,” Hancock adds, sobering up a bit. “Like, I wanna see your dick–I bet it’s so pretty, and you pro’ly spank real good … mmhm … uh, but your smile too!”

Nick tries to fight against a blush and sound stern. “John.”

“And your eyes.” Hancock takes an unsteady step closer to poke Nick in the chest. “Ya got pretty eyes. An’a–and a blush. Are your nipples that pink?”

Nick’s whole face flares red and he grits his teeth. “That is an inappropriate question. Now give me your hands so I can arrest you.”

Comprehension of the situation dawns on Hancock’s face. “Like, in the not sexy way?”

“Yes, John.”

Hancock stumbles back, shaking his head. “No, no, no. No can do, Nicky.”

“This is not up for debate,” Nick says, slowly advancing forward in time with Hancock’s retreat.

“But Nicky, I got plans,” Hancock whines.

“Yeah, uh huh, and sobering up in the drunk tank is now the first of ‘em,” Nick replies.

He lunges almost before he’s done speaking, catching Hancock off guard, who can’t scramble back fast enough. The resident degenerate and ex-guitar player immediately starts hollering his head off in the middle of the park.

“No, fuck off, Nicky! I don’t want to–fucking–not fair, just minding my own goddamn business, you tell Ann Codman to shove–”

Nick finally gets Hancock turned around and slaps the cuffs on him, but the detective makes the mistake of letting his guard down after that, thinking the struggle is over. Hancock wrenches himself out of Nick’s grip and staggers away, barely managing to stay upright in his drunken-high-or-both state without his arms to balance himself.

“For fuck’s sake, John,” Nick says with another exasperated sigh.

“You can’t take me alive!” Hancock yells back.

Nick rolls his eyes. “And how are you going to stop me, wise guy?”

Hancock hesitates for a moment before the stubborn glint in his eye returns. “Put ‘em up.”

“What?”

“Fight me. Right here, right now!”

“Your hands are cuffed behind your back,” Nick points out.

“I can still fight,” Hancock protests. “You’ve only stopped two limbs out of four, c’mon!”

“I’m not gonna–”

Nick doesn’t even bother to finish that sentence as Hancock begins to duck and weave, although it really just looks like a drunken stagger. He folds his arms across his chest and decides to wait for the smaller man to tire himself out. What happens instead is Hancock tries to throw a kick, overbalances, and lands flat on his back with an “umfph!” Nick winces. That had to have hurt.

“You want help back–”

“Fuck you!” Hancock screams.

Nick’s stomach clenches up. Sure, John’s been yelling at him this whole time, but that’s just his usual bullshit. Nick knows there’s no real heat behind the words, but that sounded angry and … desperate.

Nick takes a few steps closer. “Just let me help you.”

“No, no!”

Hancock kicks his legs, and it should be ridiculous because he kind of looks like a cross between a junebug flipped on its back and a middle-aged housewife doing pilates, but he’s still screaming bloody murder. Nick drops to the ground and tries to straddle Hancock’s waist to trap his legs, while also trying to get a good enough grip on his shoulders to pin his chest down at the same time. Hancock keeps thrashing, determined to make this as hard as possible.

“Goddamn it, John!” Nick huffs.

Bwe-ooop!

Both men freeze at the short siren sound from a new squad car pulling into the park, lights flashing in the almost-darkness. Nick looks up to see Officer Danse and step out.

Fuck.

“Do you need assistance with the perp, Detective Valentine?” Danse barks.

John flinches beneath him at the word, “perp.” Even though they’d been fighting a moment earlier, Nick finds himself crouching over the smaller man protectively.

“I’ve got this handled,” he calls back.

“Are you certain that–”

Officer Hayley steps out of the car and tugs Danse aside with a quiet murmur. Thank God. Danse was a little too focused on making it to Washington and not nearly as focused on being an actual help to civilians as the older detective thought he should be.

Nick looks down to see Hancock curled up in the fetal position and sniffling into the grass.

“Hey, kid,” he says softly. “Let me help you up.”

Hancock doesn’t protest this time, doesn’t respond in any way at all, as Nick pulls him to his feet.

“M’sorry I’m such a fucking embarrassment,” he mumbles in a small voice.

“No, it’s not like that.” Nick pulls him into a hug. “You’re not. You’re good, John, you’s so, so good.”

Hancock trembles in his arms and sniffs a few times into his neck. Nick looks across the clearing to see Hayley give him a thumbs up as she pushes a still-arguing Danse back toward their squad car. He should bring her donuts tomorrow morning, and the good coffee that’s iced and has caramel in it.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Nick asks when they finally drive away.

“It’s stupid.”

“Shh, no it’s not. You’re not stupid.”

Hancock takes in one last shuddering breath before blurting out the whole story.

“I set up this stupid fucking blanket with food and wine and shit because tonight’s the night with all the stars doing the star thing, and it was s’posed to be romantic, and I’ve had it planned for months, but I just needed a little hit because I was nervous and it was only weed, I swear to god Nicky, but then Ann stormed over and she–she–fuck!”

Nick can fill in the blanks from there. The station had gotten a call about a perp doing drugs late at night in the park from a “concerned citizen,” and Ellie had passed the tip along to him because the perp matched John’s description. Of course, he wouldn’t be this high–or drunk–from one hit, but Nick can see two empty wine bottles sticking out of the balled up blanket, and he can imagine Hancock getting fucked up out of spite after having Ann narc on him for a bit of weed.

“Dunno why I even–” Another shuddering breath. “–kept smoking or drank all that stupid expensive wine or, god, fuck, stuck around here. I thought it would be Dancer coming down to get me, it wasn’t supposed to be you, Nicky, this wasn’t how I was gonna get you here.”

Nick blinks at the almost-dark horizon. “Me? For the … did you want to–with me?”

Hancock pulls out of his arms with a wry chuckle. “Told you it was stupid, didn’t I?”

Nick is too goddamn old for his heart to be doing that in his chest. Flips and wild exultations of joy. Everyone knew he had a crush on the younger-hotter-flirtateous guitar player even before John Hancock became a household name.

And then split with Diamond City to start his own band, Goodneighbor.

And then got severely burned when pyrotechnics malfunctioned on stage.

And then lost the case that it had been sabotage and moved back to his hometown.

Shit, everyone knew everything about each sordid detail of John’s life. Piper had even run a blog about them for a while, made up some cutesy couple name for them and everything until he paid Deacon to work his magic and shut her down.

Nick had always thought that Hancock knew about his crush the whole time. That’s why he flirted with him so often, teasing him about it. Right?

“Can I kiss you?” Nick blurts out.

Hancock swallows hard and straightens up, head held high even as his voice trembles. “I think I’m all done with pity fucks, thanks.”

Nick decides he might as well go for broke. “How about a relationship?”

Hancock blinks, confused and still kind of drunk. “What?”

“I’ve liked you for–hell, probably longer than I should’ve,” Nick confesses. “I was always just too chicken shit to say anything. I never thought you’d feel the same about an old man when you–wait, you’re not lowering your standards are you?”

“What?” Hancock whispers again, mostly to himself.

“You are smart and funny and talented, and to be honest, you’re still the sexiest man in–anywhere. You deserve someone who–”

Hancock cuts off Nick’s lecture by bodily throwing himself at the older man, lips first, in a desperate attempt to kiss him. Luckily, Nick catches him and keeps him upright as he lays sloppy kisses along his jaw and cheek. Nick manages to turn enough to catch his lips, trying to keep the kiss chaste.

“Please,” Hancock whines, shattering that effort. “Please, Nicky, plea–”

Nick kisses him again with a growl, licking into his mouth. Hancock whimpers and presses as close as he can without the use of his arms to wrap about the other man’s neck. Nick gives one last hard suck to his tongue before forcing himself to pull back.

“You know I still have to take you in, right?”

Hancock makes another wordless whine, dropping his head against Nick’s shoulder. The detective chuckles softly.

“It won’t be too bad. Nate and MacCready are already in the tank, and Danse is scheduled to go back to his desk in an hour. I’m sure the three of you will find a way to entertain yourselves bothering him.”

Hancock looks up with a grin. “You take me to the nicest places.”

Nick blushes again. “How ‘bout tomorrow night I take you to a restaurant? Mama Murphey’s sound all right?”

John steals another quick kiss. “Sounds wonderful, Nicky.”

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god, I can’t believe myself. this whole fucking thing was just for the part about Hancock trying to fight with his feet. that’s what started this. it was just supposed to be a JOKE.
> 
> how did it get sad??? why did I add a backstory?? will someone ever pls stop me from writing these two dummies??
> 
> they’re not even my main ship! ;n;
> 
> PS: Nick was John’s teenage sexual awakening in this fic, plus his first crush that he never got over. I couldn’t work it in, but that’s the way it is ✿◕ ‿ ◕✿


End file.
